


Eye of the storm (peering through the winds)

by Verse



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Character Study, Derealization, Dissociation, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25858093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verse/pseuds/Verse
Summary: Only one Artoria picked her own humanity over the divinity of the lance. One Artoria, so many Chaldeas, and she's in all of them.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Eye of the storm (peering through the winds)

**Author's Note:**

> when will lalter be relevant again

Here she stands, the King of the Storms, leader of the Wild Hunt. An if of an if, ghost among the ghosts, one of a kind. The result of solely one, specific, set of events.

There is only one of her, yet she’s called to Chaldea. To a Chaldea. To all Chaldeas.

She roams through the halls. The servants she meets often pass through each other like ghosts, unaware of each other; different Chaldea, different worlds. “Why do you ride a horse indoor?” Asks Jack, or maybe Nursery Rhyme, or maybe Bunyan, a few seconds a few Chaldeas apart. “Why do you ride a horse indoor?”

(Llamrei is like her; one foot, one hoof, between all worlds, the eye of the storm. Her friend. Her anchor.)

“You’re always up at the oddest hours.” Say Robin, and Sanson, Emiya. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

She can’t remember the last time she was awake.

Battles are easier. Singularities are easier. She’s at her most coherent when the world is breaking. It’s like only one of them can be whole at the time.

“Lalter!” The Master waves at you. “I’m glad to see you today! You’re so hard to find, I swear.”

Transient. Dream-dweller. Her very _existence_ is but flickering. Of course she’d be hard to find.

(... And, admittedly, she’s made herself scarce. Seeing other versions of herself isn’t exactly pleasant. Like someone else watching her through her own eyes.)

The Master sits next to her and speaks of many things at once. The Master is asian, black and white. The Master is blond, brown-haired and red-haired. The Master speaks to her in Japanese, Russian and English. It’s all just sound. It’s all just a body.

(She’s heard people, many times, wonder how could the Master spare so much love for their servants. She wonders if the Master themself is aware of this. That Humanity’s Last Master could have been anyone, that they all overlap, a thousand eyes and a thousand voices and a thousand hearts that beat and echo and love love _love._ )

“It must be weird,” they say absent-mindedly (they for indeterminate gender and they for multiple) “to see so many versions of yourself on a daily basis.”

And she turns towards them, turns their head to their face and their timeline and their Chaldea, and can’t help but mutter; “Wouldn’t you know best?”

**Author's Note:**

> really into the idea of every individual playthrough being a timeline on its own


End file.
